The Arrangement
by DistressedMoonchild
Summary: An arranged marriage


TITLE: The Arrangement

AUTHOR: Moonchild

RATING: R

PAIRING: HP/DM

GENRE: General

SUMMARY: An arranged marriage. Read about the consequences in the sequel, The Settlement

WARNINGS: slash

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

ARCHIVING: please ask

FEEDBACK: welcomed and appreciated  


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The Arrangement 

**

For the sixth time during their talk Albus Dumbledore stopped and looked into the eyes of the man sitting in front of him trying to read his thoughts. As before, with no result. Lucius Malfoy was not easy to read. It was impossible to decide whether he was upset or satisfied with the current situation. Giving up, Albus sighed and continued their discussion. 

"The contract was wisely drawn. I don't see any potential catches or flaws that would allow us to proclaim it illegitimate or circumvent it," he remarked thoughtfully, lowering his gaze to a white parchment on the table. The document gave out a deceiving impression of brand new, looking almost festive with golden flowery ornaments on the paper edges and calligraphic writing. Unfortunately its content wouldn't seem as innocent and nice to the people involved. 

"Oh yes, it is a perfect legal document," Lucius agreed. "It was prepared by Frank Longbottom. He was a very promising lawyer. A pity that his son being practically a squib does not have a chance of participating." 

"I doubt Frank would be overwhelmed with joy, were he old and mature enough at that time to realize what he was trying to do with his own future son," followed the dry response. 

Lucius Malfoy chuckled. "Oh come on, Albus, why such a tragic tone? The only one in this room who should be upset with the current events is me, and do you see any signs of despair in my behavior?" 

"Indeed," amiably admitted Dumbledore. "The most famous young wizard in the world is about to enter your family returning the Malfoy name to the spotlight once again. Sounds as an awful perspective to me." 

Lucius stifled a yawn. The conversation proved to be endless and boring, just as he feared. The old man was obviously in no hurry to deliver the boy to him. It seemed as he was trying to persuade Lucius to change his mind. As if Lucius' decision would affect anything. Everything was decided a long time ago, it was beyond him to change what was going to happen even if he wanted to. 

"But still, don't you find this paper cruel? Children, of so young age, are betrothed to somebody regardless of their sympathies, wishes, even their sexual preferences…" Dumbledore mercilessly droned. 

Lucius' patience gave way. He interrupted: "And that is why they are supposed to get married immediately upon reaching the age of consent! Too young to disrespect their parents' decision, adult enough to feel physical attraction. They did not have time to enter a serious relationship with anybody and will accept the contract's choice. And before you plunge deep in the discussion of this contract's intricacies once again, I would like to remind you that we don't have much time left. If the boy doesn't appear here anytime soon, I will go looking for him personally." 

"Please Lucius, there's absolutely no reason to worry. Harry will be here shortly and you will set off. Although I really wish that you would reconsider your decision. Surely the boys need to be instructed and advised. The ceremony could take place in Hogwarts, I would arrange everything…" 

Lucius Malfoy interrupted. "Albus, we discussed this too many times to my liking! All ceremonies involving Malfoys are held on the Malfoy grounds. This is a tradition I have no desire to violate, even if present circumstances are a bit unusual. Besides, my son is already properly instructed. All I expect of you is to deliver the Potter boy here, explain the situation to him and we will be off." 

Harry reached Dumbledore's office with trepidation he was unable to overcome. Even though he did not expect to hear of any real danger or bad news, he was still worried. Voldemort was defeated last year; Harry knew that for sure since he witnessed Dumbledore casting the spell that caused the Dark Lord's downfall. 

Surprisingly, this event passed mostly unnoticed as many wizards didn't even come to terms with the fact that Voldemort ever returned – for them he was dead and never came back. They preferred to consider Harry the savior of the Wizarding world, the one who defeated evil in his childhood on that fateful night in Godric's Hollow. Despite Dumbledore's attempts to persuade wizards that the evil was revived, the majority chose to believe this to be a rumor. Complete, traceless destruction of Voldemort's body upon his death did not help to prove Dumbledore's rightfulness. Paradoxically, the greatest evil of the last few centuries was destroyed and no one cared. 

Not that it upset Harry. He was absolutely content in his knowledge that there was no real threat for him and his friends, that his parents were finally avenged. The only thing that worried him from time to time was that he was wrongly considered the savior, as the honor belonged entirely to Albus Dumbledore. But the Headmaster insisted that things were better this way. 

So what happened now that made Dumbledore to invite Harry into his office? Of course Harry was happy to leave behind the Dursleys' house and an extremely unpleasant prospect of lawn mowing on a hot sunny day, but he couldn't help wondering. There was a tiny hope that Dumbledore wanted to make a surprise for him. Surely professor remembered that 31st July was Harry's birthday. Perhaps he wanted to organize a party for him, give Harry a chance to celebrate his birthday with his friends for the first time? Or was it too much to expect? 

This time he did not have to attempt guessing the password for entrance. The door opened wide, and he almost collided with a person who was obviously in a hurry to leave the premise. Harry looked up planning to apologize and gaped. The person in front of him was someone he did not expect to meet in Dumbledore's office any time soon – Lucius Malfoy. Harry knew that Malfoy somehow managed to keep his reputation absolutely stainless during the short yet dramatic Voldemort's return. Even his son was evidently instructed during summer of their 4th year to act more careful and ceased his attacks against non-purebloods. In public Malfoys' behavior was irreproachable. Of course Harry knew better. 

The pause did not last long. Lucius Malfoy clearly changed his initial intention to exit the room and stepped back with a courteous nod, giving Harry opportunity to enter. He even sat into an armchair indicating that he would be present during the conversation. 

Dumbledore smiled at Harry. "Harry, my boy, we've been waiting for you. Please sit down and make yourself comfortable. A cup of tea?" 

"No, thank you, sir." The situation looked more and more gruesome for Harry. Dumbledore sending Professor McGonagall to fetch him in the middle of summer holidays in order to have a talk with Lucius Malfoy? No birthday surprise, then. It was definitely something unpleasant. 

"Harry, I have no doubt that you are wondering why I asked you to come to school in the midst of your vacation. I will explain it to you shortly, but first allow me to introduce you to some facts that will probably be new to you. It is important for you to be informed about those things in order to understand what is going on. Have you ever heard about Wizarding Partnerships?" Dumbledore inquired. 

Harry frowned recollecting. "Yes, I think Professor Binns told us about them. Two or more wizards form a community when they want to develop their magical abilities or master an exceptionally complicated spell." 

"Exactly," the Headmaster nodded encouragingly. "But Professor Binns probably did not mention that these partnerships are in fact a modern modification of a very old tradition. You see, Harry, in ancient times the Wizarding Partnerships took form of marriages. I suppose you are acquainted with the fact that magical power of a wizard begins to develop in full only when he passes his adolescence. That is why wizards are traditionally sent to school – they must learn to control their magic before they actually gain their full power. 

"Even in old times it was a widely known fact that a well-arranged union could help its members to achieve true proficiency. Obviously a marriage was considered the best, most reliable ground for such a union. Certain spells were devised in order to find best suitable partners. Marriages were arranged for young wizards by their parents, so that young ones could practice their abilities and skills together and learn to cooperate. As the tradition of arranged marriages became outdated, so did the practice of searching for the best Wizarding Partners to be married to." 

Harry guessed that this lecture had something to do with him, but he did not know what. With every minute he grew more and more nervous, and now he really wished just to hear how it concerned his persona. 

Noticing his worry, Dumbledore continued. "This tradition did not disappear completely. Harry, you know that the time when you were born was dark, and people were frightened…" 

Lucius who apparently had enough of Dumbledore's delicate approaches, interfered: "Mr. Potter, many pureblood wizards including those who have chosen Voldemort's side were worried about their future and future of their children in the light of things they witnessed. Voldemort's methods of achieving his goals were too… crude and violent. Event some of his most devoted followers began to resent his ways. 

"Eventually a group of people came to a conclusion that they needed to protect their children, yet unborn, if not by stopping the Dark Lord, then at least by enhancing their powers. Only those who were in this group knew about its existence. Your father was one of its members. It consisted only of pureblood promising wizards, those who opposed Voldemort from the start and those who grew disappointed in him. They practiced advanced spells that could be useful in their research. And finally they came across an old rite that, though not guaranteeing 100% safety of their children, would nevertheless ensure a relatively good protection. I am talking about Wizarding Partnerships. 

"They prepared a contract that promised two children born of the group's members to each other. The magic involved would select two most powerful young wizards. Their names would appear in the blanks left in the contract when they both reach 16 years of age. This marriage would allow these two children to balance their powers and achieve unmatched proficiency. Such contracts are unusual nowadays but not prohibited. Although Voldemort never found out about the group's existence, he managed to eliminate most of its members. Many of them didn't even have time to acquire a child. The group lost most of its members, and the contract practically lost its purpose with Voldemort's death. Nevertheless the document stayed valid. I kept it in a safe place, knowing that sooner or later it would remind us of itself. I was right. A few months ago the first name appeared – my son's, as I expected. It happened on his 16th birthday. Today I've finally seen the second name. Do I need to say whose name it was?" 

Somewhere along Lucius' smooth speech Harry's feeling of foreboding increased and now it reached its peak. 

"It's my birthday," Harry muttered. "What? Mine?!" 

Lucius smiled. 

"But-but, you said that those two children must get married, there must have been a mistake in the contract, right?" 

"No mistake, Harry," Dumbledore sighed. "This contract does not consider sex of the children or human relationships. It has simply chosen the most promising wizards who would compliment each other, whose magic abilities would be in balance…" 

"Compliment?! Draco Malfoy's and my abilities cannot be in balance! We have nothing in common!" 

"Mr. Potter, could you please keep your voice down?" Lucius coldly inquired. "Even taking into account your state of deep shock, I still ask you to have mercy on my eardrums. Besides, your tantrums will not rectify the situation. The contract clearly states that you must marry your partner on the day when both of you turn sixteen. Since Draco is already 16, and you also reached the required age, you will be married today. If the contract's terms are not met in time indicated, both of you will probably lose control over your magic power. I have heard about cases when parties involved became unable to perform a simplest spell after attempting to ignore their contracts." 

"Could we wait a little? Maybe I will turn sixteen and nothing will happen…" Harry tried again. "And if our magical powers get out of control we will do it." 

Dumbledore shook his head. "My dear boy, if you break the contract the consequences are unpredictable. There is no guarantee that your marriage will stop the deterioration process if it doesn't happen in time." 

Now Harry was sure that this was the worst of the birthdays he had. Ever. 

* * *

Through an endless suite of halls, corridors and staircases, Harry followed the elegant figure of Draco Malfoy. As they approached their destination, Harry felt more and more nervous. At first he attempted to entertain himself at least with a small distraction of memorizing their path but eventually gave up. In silence they entered a spacious lavishly decorated room. Intricate golden threads pattern on beige curtains that half-hid narrow French windows stretching from the floor to the ceiling set off nicely the crème-colored walls. Everything, from the soft carpet to tapestries to brocade upholstery of furniture seemed to be in various shades of brown: from light brown to dark chocolate color. The color scheme was comforting and relaxing, unlike the huge bed that seemed to occupy at least half of the room and immediately arrested Harry's attention. 

His observations were interrupted by a question: "How do you like my bedroom? Or should I rather say 'our bedroom'?" Harry flinched and gritted his teeth. He _would not _talk about these things, he did not even want to _think _about them. 

Obviously not expecting a reply, just enjoying the sound of his voice, Draco headed to the large mirror on the far wall. Unfastening his robes with one hand, he picked a hairbrush from a small table with another and began to comb his hair. 

Unsurely Harry moved to the middle of the room and looked around in search of a chair. Unfortunately the only armchair was located way too close to Draco's mirror, so the huge bed was the sole alternative left for him. Much as Harry dreaded this particular piece of furniture, he felt that his legs would not hold him any longer and carefully sat on the bed edge. 

Thoughts, memories of recent events were rushing through his head, scattering, tangling in knots, and becoming more and more incoherent with each passing moment. 

When the conversation – if one could use such a word to describe a combination of Dumbledore's soothing monologue periodically interrupted by Lucius' sarcastic remarks and Harry's fervent protests – was over, the Headmaster invited Professor McGonagall to his office and asked her to accompany Harry to the entrance of the school. Probably to ensure that he didn't try to escape, Harry was thinking bitterly now. Dumbledore even had guts to congratulate Harry! That was probably the first time when Harry truly and deeply hated the Headmaster. 

At that moment he was also torn between a desire to flee and an idea of dropping to his knees in front of Dumbledore begging him to do something, anything to stop this nightmare. He wasn't given time or opportunity to attempt any of these options. He moved automatically, coming downstairs, approaching the exit and obediently opening a small leather-bound notebook thrust in his hand by Lucius Malfoy. It was a portkey activated by opening, but he realized that only when he found himself standing in front of the Malfoy Manor entrance. A firm hand on his shoulder pushed him inside, and he was in the hall of the castle, with Lucius Malfoy behind. 

Harry was led to a small cabinet where several people already gathered. Most of them were talking quietly to each other paying almost no attention to him. Harry did not mind. In fact he would prefer to simply disappear. At some point, although Harry did not notice when exactly, Draco Malfoy appeared in the room, but he didn't even look at Harry. 

The ceremony itself was short and nearly imperceptible. The Ministry of Magic official read a few sentences from a large black book and touched both boys with his wand. Then each of them was asked in turn to press their hands to the book. 

Harry remembered vaguely Hermione telling him about the Registration Book where births, deaths and marriages were recorded. At that time he could not quite grasp how every Minister worker possessed a copy of it, and at the same time only one Registration Book existed. Hermione patiently explained that the book was enchanted to multiply endlessly, so that it could never be destroyed completely. During the ceremony Harry was glad that he actually paid attention for once to Hermione's words. Otherwise he would undoubtedly try to destroy the damned book immediately. 

Back then he didn't give it a thought but he couldn't help questioning it now: what did Draco think about all this? He never said a word of protest, never complained about unfairness of the situation, never fidgeted. When Harry finally asked him – just forty minutes ago, before the "celebration" dinner began and they were left alone in the living room, all he got was a cheeky grin and an equally insolent response: "I am flexible". 

How could Malfoy be so calm about this? This was his rival, all these years he acted as if Harry by some terrible injustice of fate took over his place. Somehow he also managed to pass this feeling to Harry as well. 

Harry recently even felt embarrassed about winning in Quidditch, as this was supposed to be Draco Malfoy's field of expertise. Of course Harry realized how crazy it sounded – he was the better player, by all means, but he was unable to escape this feeling. Maybe it had something to do with Malfoy's confident air? It didn't fail him even now, in _their_ bedroom. He looked as smug and self-assured as ever. He was about to spend the rest of his life with Harry and he didn't even seem to care. 

Harry never questioned his sexual preferences before. It was sort of assumed that since he was a boy he was supposed to look only at girls. Boys were out of his range of interests. Now his range of interests would consist only of Draco Malfoy. Lucius already kindly explained to him that unfaithfulness equaled to breach of the contract and would bring the same results. Would he feel attracted to Malfoy? He was not sure how he was supposed to feel. Malfoy was unquestionably good-looking, Harry had to admit it. He could even remember feeling envy of Malfoy's appearance and grace, his popularity among female (and partially male) population of Hogwarts, and trying to imagine what was it that made Draco Malfoy seem so special… No! He did _not_ think about it! Never! He is unhappy, right? Married and unhappy. Not wondering if Malfoy is a good lover. Harry felt that his face grew hot. 

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Draco's reflection stared at him from the mirror and raised his eyebrow. Harry jumped slightly, his line of thoughts interrupted. He was not ready for all that, not yet. 

"Could we… could we not do it now?" Harry started pleadingly. "Maybe later, when we get used to each other a bit?" 

"Oh, come on, Potter, you make it sound as something absolutely horrible," calmly responded Draco 

"Malfoy… Draco, I don't think I can, I-I, I don't know…" 

Sensing proximity of a panic attack in his companion's voice, Draco turned to him for a second and eyed him from head to foot. 

"Alright, Potter, what is your problem?" Draco exhaled tiredly, returning to his previous task of arranging his hair in perfect order. Harry really did not get the idea of arranging one's hair before going to bed. It would be ruined the moment when one's head touched a pillow. Draco went on: "It's not that bad, believe me. Mostly the same thing you do with girls." 

No response followed from the bed. 

Surprised, Draco looked at Harry again. "What it is?" 

Harry did not answer, suddenly showing much interest in studying the bedclothes. 

Realization dawned on Draco. "Oh, oh my, let me guess, you are virgin, aren't you? The savior of the Wizarding world never got laid, right?" 

"Come on, Potter, you are lucky to have me as your first. You would not believe what pricks I've met during my… experiments. At least _I_ know what to do in bed." 

"And I would prefer you not to share your experience with me!" followed the immediate retort. 

"I believe we established already that your or mine preferences are not of much importance here. Just do as I say, and you'll get through with minimal losses." 

Harry felt that he was being mocked, and his behavior probably seemed childish, but he couldn't fight the instinct to gain at least some time. He really, really didn't want to do this. 

Draco obviously had another opinion. He approached the bed and, seeing Harry's momentary shrinking, decided to try logic. "Look, it is already half past ten. We have less than two hours left to complete this. You know what is going to happen if we fail to meet the contract's terms. We will just do it once and forget about it for a while, alright? Good. Now lie down on your back and relax a bit." 

Draco sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over the black-haired boy. Normally, he would just jump at his bed partner but this time he hesitated. It was one thing to work up some naïve pretty chick and another to gentle a stubborn boy he spent several years bickering with. Draco decided to limit the foreplay. He simply straddled Potter's hips who immediately tensed becoming stiff as a board, and began unbuttoning his shirt. 

Harry clutched the sheets in his fists struggling against a growing desire to punch the bastard's nose. His restraint was hard enough to keep when he felt hands sliding up and down his naked chest. The task seemed close to impossible when the same hands started unfastening his trousers and then proceeded to remove them together with his boxers. 

Draco released him and commanded: "Turn over." 

"What the hell for?" 

"I need to prepare you. It will hurt if I go on like this. Now relax…" 

Half an hour later they were sitting in opposite corners of the bed, both naked, and staring at each other with hostility. No one said a word for several minutes. Finally Draco spoke up. 

"Let's try again?" 

Harry shook his head mutely. 

Draco sighed. "I guess Father was right again. He warned me that you wouldn't be very responsive. Alright, desperate measures for desperate times." 

He headed to the cupboard near the window and took a small glass vial filled with yellowish fluid. He returned to the bed and held it for Harry to take with words: "I didn't want to use it but prepared nevertheless. Just in case." 

Harry did not budge. "What is it?" his eyes measured the vial suspiciously. 

"A potion that will help you to relax a bit. Drink it, Potter." 

"You first." 

"Are you an idiot? I don't need a bloody potion to fuck you!" 

"And I am not drinking anything you shove under my nose!" 

Gripping the vial in his hand, Draco tried again: "Potter, this potion is supposed to make you more… sexually aroused. If I drink it I can get impatient and you will probably get hurt in the process." 

"I won't drink it if you don't," followed a stubborn reply. 

Shoulders slumping in defeat, Draco uncorked the vial. "Just remember, Potter: I did warn you. You'll be the one to deal with the consequences." 

He swallowed half of the vial's contents and thrust it at Harry again. This time Harry complied. The liquid was very sweet and thick; Harry could almost imagine it clinging to his tongue and throat like glue and sticking there forever. He swallowed and stared at his lap. At first he did not feel anything. Then... he suddenly noticed Draco's presence very close to him, he could hear his heartbeat, smell him, his skin began tingling… then he felt a warm hand on his shoulder and it was a blessing. His skin burned under the touch, he wanted more of this, and when the hand cupped his chin and soft lips approached his mouth Harry almost moaned in relief. After that his last conscious thoughts melted away. He was so hungry for Draco's touch that he did not care what exactly happened in this bed: he just wanted more licking, kissing, biting, caressing… and he got all that. 

* * *

Harry woke up feeling hot, sweaty and extremely uncomfortable. He attempted to roll on another side only to find out that: a) there was someone lying beside him, b) every movement was painful. It did not take him long to mentally connect these two observations. The Wizarding contract – the ceremony – Draco – last night – the potion - … And he liked it, he actually liked it! Harry could even remember himself gripping Malfoy's arms, pulling him closer, spreading his legs, begging for more. Oh no, he was never going to live this down. Now Malfoy will start telling everyone at school what a slut Harry was, and they all will laugh at him, and he will never be able to look his friends in the eyes. Everyone will despise him now.

The last thought was too much. Harry began to shake. He was married – to a boy – to his enemy – and his enemy fucked him – and it would repeat again and again because they were married… Why were all those weird horrible things happening to him? What did he do to deserve it? His cheeks were wet. He didn't even notice when he was crying. 

His partner stirred and placed a hand on his back. Harry jerked. "Don't touch me!" 

Draco raised his head from the pillow. "What? What is your problem?" 

"Please… just don't. I-I," Harry was openly sobbing now. What was the point in hiding his tears from someone who already humiliated him in the worst imaginable way? Not that Draco Malfoy would care about his condition, anyway. 

This was evidently true, since Draco raised himself from the bed and walked out from the room. Harry curled himself up into a ball. Several minutes later Draco looked into the bedroom again with a scowl on his face: "The breakfast is ready. Are you planning to get up and eat?" 

"No, leave me alone." 

Draco shrugged and disappeared from the door. 

Still scowling, Draco came downstairs and entered the dining hall. Etiquette that demanded of him to bid good morning to his parents with a proper kiss on Mother's cheek totally discarded, he strode directly to the table and set down. 

Lucius' first intention was to scold his son but unhappy expression on Draco's face made him dismiss the thought. Instead he settled for: 

"Everything alright, son?" 

"Absolutely, Father." 

"Isn't Harold going to join us for breakfast?" inquired Narcissa. 

Both Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy insisted on calling their newly found son-in-law Harold. "Harry" was rejected as a Muggle-sounding name, too plebeian for a young man entering the Malfoy family. 

"He is still coming to terms with his new position. I decided to let him wallow in his misery since he was obviously enjoying his state of distress." Draco's pursed lips clearly indicated his disapproval of such a childish behavior. 

"Small problems, if ignored, have a tendency of growing into larger ones. I don't want to see an eternal conflict in this house," stated Lucius. 

"And what am I supposed to do about it?" snapped Draco. 

"Although I have no desire to interfere into your private life, I feel it is my duty to remind you that young Harold is your responsibility." 

"I cannot help but wonder why I am the one responsible, seeing that you are the one who picked him…" grumbled Draco. 

Lucius sighed. This was neither the first nor the second time he heard those complaints. "I thought we have already explored this topic. You know as well as I do that this decision was a necessity at the time, and there is nothing to be done about it now. Remember what I taught you: if you cannot change the circumstances, at least try to put them to your best use." 

Draco entered the bedroom again, Father's voice ringing in his ears. He knew that Father was right. Maybe a little persuasion would help… 

Harry was lying in the same position – a small lump in the middle of the bed. He stopped crying, but looked pale and exhausted. When he heard approaching steps he turned to see who was coming, and winced. It was apparent that moves caused him pain. 

"Are you sore?" 

A small nod. 

"Well, I did warn you about the possibilities." 

The lump on the bed seemed to reduce in size even more. 

Draco sat near to the lump and cautiously reached for the head not really seeing it under the blanket but assuming that it was on the pillow. He patted it a little, gradually extending his strokes to the boy's back. When trembling subsided Draco carefully removed the blanket and revealed the small figure. 

"Come here, Harry. I promise I won't hurt you anymore, alright?" He pulled unresisting boy closer, placing Harry's head onto his lap. 

Harry did not expect anything like this. Not from Draco. It felt nice. Petting went on and on, accompanied with soothing whisper, and Harry slowly began to relax. He was feeling drowsy and to the question "Does it still hurt?" could only nod. He sensed that Draco's hand moved lower but was too tired and weak to protest. The hand covered in something warm and slippery touched his rear. Harry realized that Draco applied an ointment to cure what was ripped – Harry could already feel the pain easing off. It felt so good that he was unable to decide if this was a medical treatment or a caress. All Harry knew was that he did not want it to stop. 

Nimble fingers kept gentling his tormented flesh, and this was undoubtedly the best thing that happened to him as far as he could remember. Once or twice the fingers stopped, and Harry would let out a protesting whimper only to feel them resume their tantalizingly slow movement. 

It was an extremely strange and unusual sensation. And Harry wondered… he wondered about weird fate that got him into the bed with another boy, about their mutual animosity in spite of which they ended here, about the fact that the said boy's caresses could be so pleasant. Harry was hugged, kissed, smiled at and cared about by different people, but never, not even in his wildest dreams he imagined that the most intimate touch brought to him by his annoying schoolmate would be the nicest contact he ever experienced. There seemed to be no end to his discoveries... This was the last coherent thought Harry had until he fell asleep. 

He woke up to the feeling of a hand stroking his head. Harry was used to people waking him up. It normally meant that they wanted something from him, or that he was late for his classes. However this time the hand was evidently in no hurry, no one yelled at him or pushed him from the bed. Besides he had a vague memory of something very good happening to him not a long time ago. He couldn't remember what it was, but general feeling of contentment remained. So he fought back the impulse to jump up, limiting his reaction to yawning and stretching instead. 

It took him no less than five minutes to finally force his eyes open. All this time patting continued. When he turned around at last he found himself lying face to face with Draco Malfoy. He froze for a moment desperately trying to remember how the Slytherin got into his bed. Then his brain finished waking up, and very distinct – too distinct – memories of the ceremony, the first night and the morning after crashed onto him. He closed his eyes very tight. 

Sometimes Harry really wished that Voldemort was not dead and would attack him unexpectedly. At least in this case he could hope for an instantaneous death, which would by all means be less humiliating and excruciating than death from embarrassment. As usual, his dreams did not come true. When he opened his eyes, Malf… his husband was still there staring at him with a smug grin on his face. 

"Err… good morning," Harry finally managed to force from throat that suddenly became very tight. 

The Slytherin did not reply straight away. Instead he reached for Harry's hair and smoothed them down a little. "We missed breakfast. If you are done with your breakdown, I would recommend you to go take a shower. In the meanwhile the house elves will bring us some food here." 

"Oh. Alright," Harry mumbled uncertainly, not sure if an apology was expected from him and if he should actually offer one. He began to rise from the bed, ready to follow the instruction. He has just met another Draco, a Draco he did not know but liked quite a lot. He was feeling slightly ashamed and guilty about the whole crying and shouting scene. Draco was in exactly the same situation – well, almost the same – but he acted so mature and even tried to calm him down… 

Obeying a sudden impulse, Harry whirled around and met Draco's eyes. He leaned forward, planted a kiss on the blond's lips and almost leapt from the bed. 

Draco watched his hasty retreat with a smile. Harry's escapade was unexpected and entertaining. Maybe this marriage wouldn't be a complete disaster after all; there could be some hope to have fun with this Gryffindor boy… 

**

The End 

**


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